


The right guess

by AtmaAiu



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Caring, M/M, Other, Secret love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 15:30:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3493502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtmaAiu/pseuds/AtmaAiu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short drabble about Pharma and Lobe taking care after Trepan who had been rescued from the Decepticon captivity</p>
            </blockquote>





	The right guess

September 17th, 2014 at 3:13AM  
The right guess

A short drabble about Pharma and Lobe taking care after Trepan who had been rescued from the Decepticon captivity  
From time to time, the silence of the hospital ward has being broken by the quiet beeping of the equipment detecting the vitals from the slender, graceful mech lying on the berth, with a dozen of wires attached to him. Elegant, with his armor silvery-gray and of the color of a black pearl, with a pretty, - though a bit sly, - face, this mech was now looking like a precious jewel under the glass: the gem of someone’s collection. The machines around were frankly showing the rythm of a sparkbeating, the brain module activity, the speed of energon floating through the fuel vessels inside of this fragile frame, - and, if talking about the standards for this particular frametype, all the vitals were more than just normal.  
But the lanky, copper-orange mech who was sitting near the berth with his optics never looking away from the unconscious one, still didn’t leave. Pharma was sure Lobe didn’t even move since Trepan was brought here and placed on that berth. No matter when the medic came to take a look on the young mnemosurgeon, Lobe was there, near Trepan, holding his hand and ready to help if the help would be needed. The recent events had affected him more than Pharma would’ve ever thought.  
Three days passed since the moment when Trepan came back from the Decepticons’ captivity. Better to say - he was brought to the Institute, as there was no possibility for him to walk properly because of the damage he had and with the level of energy that low. The Autobots who brought him told Lobe that they had spotted Trepan accidentally, - and the only two things he managed to tell them before losing consciousness were: that he ran away from the ‘cons and about the pace he had to get to. The ordinary Autobots knew nothing of the New Institute, and Trepan asked them to take him to the nearby outpost on the same planet with the bunker of the facility he had worked at. From there, he was transported to the medbay of the Insitute, under Pharma’s care.  
But it wasn’t Pharma or any other medic who dedicated all his time and concern to the mnemosurgeon. For everyone’s surprise, Lobe, - that grumpy, cynical, poison-natured mech with the spiteful remarks about the others’ work at the ready, - was the first one to meet Trepan after the release and the only one to never go away from him since then. The injuries Trepan suffered weren’t dangerous: they were looking like the result of a punishment for something, most likely for the attempts to escape. He wasn’t tortured (which was surprising itself concidering who had kidnapped him, but neither Lobe nor Pharma could care less at the moment), and the broken armor and torn wires were easy to fix. But he had been fueled with the energon his frame couldn’t accept, so he needed a long term treatment now… and Lobe was there for him.  
\- I’ve never thought you would be so worried about something excepting your precious mnemosurgery, Lobe, - Pharma noticed, watching the copper-coloured mech with his shoulders hunched. Lobe was now looking like an old mechanimal guarding the sick cub.  
\- Glad I’ve managed to surprise you, - Lobe’s voice was soaked with sarcasm. Pharma wasn’t offended, though, as that was Lobe’s personal manner of communication he had got used to. Lobe was a mech nearly noone could get on with: being a good superior who would never leave his subordinates in a trouble, he was of a waspish, rageful nature and the most of his colleagues tried to not to deal with him much for their own mental health’s sake.  
\- He will be alright, don’t worry. You can visit him later.  
Under the normal circumstances, Lobe’s usual answer would be a pure stinger, but now he just smiled weakly:  
\- Pharma… I do know you have more interesting things to do than bothering me here. Just go.  
And he added a word the medijet had never heard him saying:  
\- Please…  
Pharma stayed, watching the old mnemosurgeon with a bit of suspicion. That wasn’t Lobe he had known. Just a weak old mech wanting to be left alone… or not quite alone, if counting Trepan, - but Trepan was sleeping…  
A quiet sigh escaped the orange mech’s throat:  
\- I wasn’t with him when he was taken from… here, - and Pharma could swear he knew what was the word that had almost slipped off the mnemosurgeon’s glossa. - He had suffered so much in that captivity, and we did nothing to save him. You know I’ve begged the High Command to help us with getting him back, and you know what the answer was…  
…Pharma knew, that was true. The High Command preferred to send some mechs to kill the captive simply to avoid the technology of the Institute from being discovered by the enemy. Thanks to all the Gods, they never succeeded. The death of that small group was rather unexpectedly stupid: they didn’t even get to the Decepticons, ending up killed soon after they got to the no man’s area. Pharma had his own thoughts about who had tracked them down and murdered, but he would’ve never tell Lobe of his thoughts. The old mech would’ve denied everything anyways, and there were no evidence left…  
\- …I want to be here when he wakes up.  
\- What have you done to Lobe? - Pharma’s optic ridges went upwards. Lobe had never been like that before. - Where is he and who’re you?..  
Lobe grinned, and that expression was soothingly familiar.  
\- You haven’t expected me to care for a living mech, have you, Pharma?.. But, you know… caring for someone whom you have known for thousands of years, whom you have taught and who had been your colleague is normal… more than that…  
The careful choice of the words in attempts to avoid the main thing about everything happening there only made Pharma smile:  
\- Alright… I’ll pretend I haven’t understood what has got into you and proceed acting as if you are still the mech you have always been… but, if honestly… why don’t you just admit that you are in lo-  
Pharma had a very good reaction, and only it saved him from getting a hit on a forehead with rather heavy vial with some medicine Lobe had thrown at him. The vial hit the door Pharma was standing at and broke with a loud sound. The medic slipped out of the room, laughing, and only when the door was safely shut, separating him from an infuriated mech, he heard a weak, soft voice calling Lobe by name, and by the kind tone the mnemosurgeon had responded, he understood he had guessed right.


End file.
